I like birthdays. It's a day to treat yourself to a fancy cup of coffee, wear your favorite shoes and drop hints that you'd like chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Maybe it is because I have been blessed with some pretty special birthdays along the way. Every year, I can't help but think how special I was that on my seventh birthday, my dad snuck me out of daycare early to have lunch at McDonald's and see the movie Peter Pan. Another year, I hosted my closest friends for a very special tea at a doll museum. I got to wear white gloves and a pretty hat. For my golden birthday, my best friends planned a huge surprise party and they totally fooled me. I showed up unshowered, in an Old Navy tank top and upset that we were running behind schedule to find about thirty friends hiding in Anne's basement. Now I am dreaming about my thirtieth birthday, Sonoma or bust baby!
This year is a different kind of birthday because it isn't all about me anymore. There were no champagne mimosas with my chocolate chip pancakes and I had to pick my outfit based around what favorite shoes still fit. There were several reminders along the way. The day I turned 28 I was 28 weeks pregnant. I had 82 days left to my estimated due date and I was born in 1982. At my appointment on 8/18, I learned I had gained 18 pounds.
It was a fun day to celebrate dinner with friends, get calls from L.A. and New York and Minneapolis. And really fun to think about all the exciting things I get to see and do and experience this year, like become a mom.